Spring Wings


Trading seasons
Insider bets laid
Ice-winds stretched
Bent northern bow
Shoots, from the horizon
Sad old man crouches
Afraid he’s gonna melt
Off the frozen earth’s
Rough pallet, an inch
A toothless grin breaks
Twig-legs crossed
Trapped in a seat
Back of the city bus
Golden crack of dawn
No name-calling, no point
People block him out
Old man out of time
Whimperin’as a kid
Waiting to be heard
Whistlin’ nonsense
Insider, inside a world
All his own making
In the distant, diesel roar
Sad old man leaps
Not as spry as before
Suddenly grows wings
And learns how to fly

©2013 S. Michaels
Green Light Diary

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